Ghosts supply hatred to the body,
Just when they crawl in and out.
Having a heaven takes guts,
Death is the precursor, death is an objective,
We fry it and its wings in jelly.
Ghosts supply some form of hatred
Known to man as murder, and this I express
For the lies are too many, abundant thieves.
Gelatin sticks to the heart from where they germinate,
From where the ghosts germinate and grow,
Forming a new collision, so derived from play.
Crawl this way and that, so that some rivers
Begin their route and see the blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem